Tawa Deawest
by SmileyBoo
Summary: Tara's world is turned upside-down when Willow accidentally turns herself into a little kid, and deems Tara as 'Mommy'. Not really funny in the first chapter, but it will be as the story continues.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc.

Tawa Deawest

Chapter 1

"Uh oh…" This was wrong. Totally, completely, horribly wrong. "You didn't add the blueberries?"

"Um…"

"Willow! How are we going to find her?" Willow and Tara had tried, yet again, to change the color of Miss Kitty Fantastico's fur. Unfortunately, without the key ingredient, specifically, the ingredient with the desired color, the poor kitten had become invisible.

"We'll feel around…or something. Do we know a reversal spell?"

"Um, I'm not sure." Tara replied, distracted, as she crawled around the room, "Here Miss Kitty, come to Tara."

Willow opted to check the spell-book they had been using to carry out her second idea.

"Found anything?"

"No-wait! Yes! Here it is! Just give me a sec." Willow read the counter-spell aloud, and 'poof' the witch's beloved cat appeared again, rubbing against Tara's desk.

"See?" The young woman smiled, "We fixed her-good as new."

"Luckily. You know, Will, you should be more careful next ti-"

"Me?" Willow asked in disbelief. "Sure; I forgot the blueberries, but I didn't see _you_ checking that we had everything!"

Tara sighed. "You're right. Sorry I came down all hard on you. I was just scared that we'd lose-"

"I know." Willow grinned, comfortingly, "I was scared too. But we fixed everything, right? No harm done."

"Right." Tara nodded. One of these days, she knew that Willow was going to make a drastic mess-up. She was too confident-cocky, even, and Tara knew that sort of an attitude led to carelessness, which was _not_ something that meshed well with magic.

"Well, It's getting kind of late, so I think I'd better get going." Willow stood up from her seat on the floor and gathered her belongings from the carpet. "I'll see you tomorrow." She said, pecking her girlfriend on the lips as she left.

"Good night." Tara called after her.

Willow quietly shut the door as she entered her dorm room. Buffy was out patrolling, and her roommate had no clue as to when she'd be returning. If the witch's guess was correct, it wouldn't be any time soon. That was good, as far as Willow was concerned. Tonight; Willow was going to attempt something great-whether Tara liked it or not, and she really didn't want anyone interrupting her concentration.

Willow took a deep breath, removed the spell from her desk drawer, and set to work, lighting candles and mixing herbs, while chanting the incantation. Everything was done to perfection as the spell progressed, forming a small ball of swirling orange energy, when the last two ingredients were added; a lock of Tara's hair, which Willow had secretly cut during one of their long snuggle sessions, and blood. Willow winced as her dagger's sharp blade pierced her skin, causing crimson droplets to drip into the mixture. The orange sphere was turning a deep red, and Willow was in the midst of saying the last line of the spell, when the wooden door opened to reveal none other than Tara.

"Hey, Willow, you left some of your stu-What are you doing?" Tara gasped, infuriated that her girlfriend would attempt such a dangerous spell without her. She didn't recognize the words or ingredients, but she knew that anything with blood couldn't be good.

"Tara-get out of here!" Willow cried, frightened of the possibilities of a spell malfunction while her lover was present.

"Willow, you have to stop this!"

"Tara, I'm not a little girl!" She hated it when her girlfriend scolded her.

"Well you're definitely acting like one!" The witch stated, angered by Willow's stubbornness.

"Baby-"

"Don't 'Baby' me Willow. If you really cared; you'd stop doing this!" Tara

"I-Woah." Willow was hit with a wave of nausea as a sinking feeling came over her. "Tara?" The witch murmured groggily as her head hit the ground, and she was pulled into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc.

Chapter 2

"Mm…Riley…You're so…"

"So w-what?"

"What the-" Buffy sat up in bed, coming face to face with a little girl no older than four.

"S-so what?" The child repeated, eager to find the answer to her question.

The groggy college student took a second to let the question register, then blushed a dark red. "Uh, nothing you need to know about." She replied quickly.

"Oh." They both sat silently, the preschooler and the Slayer, green eyes boring into green, neither with any intention of getting up.

"So kid, um what are you doing in my room?"

"I'm n-not suwe. Should I-I not be h-hewe?"

"Probably not. Your parents must be looking for you-"

"They awe? I haveta find them! They'll be weally angwy if I'm lost!" The mysterious little girl sped off, rushing out of Buffy's dorm room and into the crowded hallway. The Slayer yawned, yanked off her covers and prepared to escort the girl to wherever her guardian was. It wouldn't look good on her rep if she just let the kid run through Sunnydale U unattended.

"Kid? Hey, kid?" Buffy called, sticking her head out of the doorway, "Where are you? Kid?" The child was no where to be seen. "_Great_. The only weekday I don't have a morning class I get stuck babysitting. This day could _not_ get worse." And with this parting anti-pep talk, the Slayer set out to find her young charge.

Meanwhile, the kid was lost. She knew her parents would be awfully mad at her for running away, but that was just it-she _hadn't_ run away. At least, not that she could remember. In fact, the last thing the poor girl could recall were her parents promising to tuck her in; but that probably didn't happen. Her parents never really took the time to do anything with her, let alone do something trivial like say 'good night'. Still, whenever the child did something wrong, her parents made a huge deal out of it, and she was _not _about to let that happen again. Not that it happened often, of course. She was a good girl. Really.

"H-hello? C-can any o-of you g-guys help m-me?"

The kid was met with astonished faces, and young men frantically trying to cover their…appendages.

"Dude! Who let that brat in here?!" A particularly rude nineteen-year-old questioned angrily.

"D-do you kn-now whewe my daddy i-is?" She asked timidly, staring up at the assorted boys.

"What?" The student was caught off-guard.

"It isn't me!"

"Uh, not me!"

"I'm always really careful!"

"You dad couldn't be me!" Shouts of denial filled the men's bathroom, as the girl looked on quizzically.

Finally, one of the braver, nicer guys marched over to the small child.

"Hey, sweetie, I think you better go back to your mommy. Do you know where she is?"

Of course, the kid had no idea whatsoever as to where her parents were, so, scared, she burst into tears.

"N-no! I-I don't kn-now!" She wept.

The kind student patted her back and suggested, "Why don't you let me take you to the main office, and we can make an announcement so your parents can come get you?"

The four-year-old looked hesitant, so the guy decided to try a well-known bribe which his own parents used when he was little. "Do you want some candy? I'll give you some if you come with me-"

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Shrieked the child, "Stwangew, stwanger!" Her parents had taught her to never to accept anything from anyone, especially not candy, or they might kidnap her or kill her or worse…not let her read anything. And this kid _loved_ her books-and her life, of course. So she sped out of that bathroom as quickly as her chubby little legs could carry her, smacking into various people's legs as she ran.

"Who's that?" Everyone wondered as they watched the little girl run into the back stairwell.

"My…cousin." Buffy answered her classmates' rhetorical musings, catching a glimpse of the child's red hair as she shut the door to the stairs behind her. Unfortunately, Buffy had a more difficult time navigating through the crowded dorm hallway than the two-and-a-half foot kid, so by the time she made it to the stairs, the red head was gone.

"Ugh." The Slayer grunted as she trudged down the stairs. She had defeated demons that were easier to keep track of. Sighing, Buffy made her way to the floor below, calling out for the small girl, who, obviously, did _not_ reply.

Tara rummaged through her closet, trying to pick out the most appropriate shirt for her date with Willow. Sure; the witch was angry with her girlfriend, but she wasn't about to give up an opportunity to talk the whole thing through. Besides, Tara had been wanting to go to the restaurant in question for _ages_, and she didn't really feel like cancelling their much sought-after reservation.

"Hm…maybe the yellow one…" The young woman's thoughts were broken by the sound of the commotion outside of her dorm. So, pulling on the chosen garment, Tara headed out to see what was going on. She was greeted with a large semi-circle of students surrounding a wailing child, who kept crying for her mommy and yelling 'stwangew!'.

"Come on, honey. Let's just take you to the lost-and-found-"

"Stwangew! Stwangew!" There was no consoling the frightened girl.

Pushing through the crowd, Tara tried to get a better look at the kid, and gasped at what she saw. The little preschooler had beautiful, big, green eyes, straight, long, red hair, and extremely pale skin. She knew it could be no other than-

"Mommy!" The little girl cried, clinging to Tara's legs, "I found you!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc.

Chapter 3

"W-what did you s-say?" Tara asked, astonished.

"I-I found y-you?"

"N-no, before that."

"Mommy?"

"Honey; w-why do you t-think I'm y-your mother?"

The child considered the question for a moment. She didn't really know. Her mother didn't have dirty blonde hair or blue eyes, and her daddy-where was her daddy anyway? All the poor kid knew was that the more she stared at this woman, the more muddled her memories became, and the more her red-haired mother's image transformed into that of the witch before her, and the more her father's presence seemed to fade from her mind completely. The little girl tried to get her thoughts straight, and, coming up with no answer, quietly stated the obvious, "I d-don't know."

"Do you have any idea where your real parents are?" Tara questioned softly.

"N-no." Replied the red-head, "Y-you'we my m-mommy…" The kid stopped to sniffle and wipe her little nose on her sleeve, "I-I think."

"Okay, sweetheart, why don't you come with me?" The young witch suggested.

"O-okay." The girl replied, smiling for the first time that day.

The witch squeezed her hand, as the crowd watched them head into Tara's dorm room.

"Ookay-did anyone else think that was weird?" A random student inquired.

"What? What was weird?" The Slayer asked, completely out-of-the-loop.

"There was this little kid who was like, lost or something, but she found her mom."

"Glad to hear it." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, heading back to her dorm to catch up on some much-needed sleep, and completely missed the student's next words.

"Seriously; who would have thought goody-two-shoes Tara Maclay had a kid?" The young adult headed down to their office at the school newspaper, "I think I just found my next top story."

"You're name is Willow, right?" Tara clarified, making sure she hadn't abducted someone else's deranged child.

"Yes Mommy-you should know my name!" The girl giggled happily.

"Of course I do!" Tara covered, "I was making sure that you knew."

The four-year old frowned. Something was definitely off with her 'mother'. But, deciding that it wasn't important, she opted to turn her attention to something more immediate.

"Mommy?" She asked, her eyes locked on the object of interest, "Can I play with the kitty?"

"Sure, baby. I'm just going to make a phone call, okay?"

Willow wasn't even listening, far too busy petting and pulling at Miss Kitty Fantastico to pay attention to the young woman.

'Bring!' 'Bring!' 'Bring!'

"Wha-who-Oh, dear, I must have dozed off." Giles rubbed his glasses before facing the new day, having fallen asleep-yet again-in a pile of research.

'Bring!' The phone's pestering tone continued.

"Shush!" He scolded the inanimate object, "I'm coming." Getting up from his seated position at his desk, Giles picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver.

"Hi, Giles?" A woman's voice checked.

"Yes?"

"I have a…small problem."

"Oh?" Rupert was annoyed; did Tara really need to call him at eight in the morning just to complain about a trivial matter? "Can this wait until-"

"No." The witch replied shortly, "It's Willow; she…changed."

"Changed?" The watcher paid closer attention to the college student, "How so?"

"I don't know; but she's just a little kid-I saw her in the hallway and I have her in my room right now-"

"Come to my house immediately." Giles ordered, now fully awake, "Bring Willow, too."

"Okay, I wi-"

"And Tara?" The older man cut her off.

"Yes?"

"Whatever you do; don't let Willow out of your sight."

"No problem." Tara responded to Giles's warning, ending the call. After all; what kind of trouble could a cute kid like Willow ever get into? Well; she was about to find out.

"Willow, we have to go, sweetie. Come with-Willow?" The girl was nowhere to be seen.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc.

Chapter 4

"Willow?" Tara rushed into the hallway, "Willow? Where are you?" The child, quite obviously, did not respond. The witch searched the halls, peeking in bedrooms, and visiting bathrooms, checking virtually every inch of the dorm, not to mention describing Willow's appearance to any random passerby, but the child was nowhere to be seen. Little miss Rosenberg was officially M.I.A.

Meanwhile, the little girl in question was in the midst of leaving the dorm, having been shuffled into an elevator with a number of college students. No one noticed the kid's presence, due to her small stature, and thus, nobody stopped to try and help her find her mommy when everyone exited on the ground floor. Willow, not one to make her own way, just stood there, taking in the campus's grassy courtyard and modern architecture, while people kept pushing past her, not caring about the lost little girl. So, being the angelic four-year-old that she was, Willow just waited patiently for her parent to find her.

Some time passed in this manner, and the waiting seemed endless to the child, who thought she might never see her mother again, when she caught a glimpse of a person with the same yellow shirt that Tara had worn that very morning.

"Mommy! Wait fow me!" Cried the red-head, desperately trying to follow the woman, "Whewe awe you going?"

The student gave no sign of recognition as she continued on to class with Willow following close behind, speeding up her pace rather than waiting for the preschooler to catch up. Together they crossed Sunnydale U's vast lawn, cutting through groups of chattering twenty-year-olds and heading through webs of different hallways as they journeyed to their destination. Willow was panting when they arrived at the door to classroom 112, where a class in journalism was taking place, and could barely find it in her to follow in after the woman she had followed.

"-what you really need to focus on when you write an article is-Oh, Marie, so glad you could join us." The instructor stopped her lecture to chastise the late arrival.

"Sorry Mrs. Gregory." The student replied, nonchalantly taking a seat in the sparsely occupied room. Willow by now had realized her error, and knew that the girl was, indeed, not the person she was looking for. Nonetheless, not wanting to disturb the lesson, and mildly interested in what the teacher was saying, the young girl decided to stay put, watching from a plastic seat in the far back.

"So now," Mrs. Gregory continued, "you will all brainstorm ideas for your next piece."

"I already have one-for the school newspaper. Do you mind if I use that as my article for class?" A wiry boy spoke up. Willow thought he looked familiar.

"Of course, Cale." His superior replied, "Why don't you read us the headline-I'm sure it will trigger some creative ideas." She smiled brightly.

"I sure hope so." He responded, smirking, "Because it's pretty unbelievable stuff."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Another guy prompted, "We're all ears!"

Cale grinned at the encouragement, pulling a worn marble notebook from his ripped backpack.

"Okay," the gray-eyed student started, leaping from his seat, "Picture this; a nice, respectable girl-" Cale pulled the girl with the yellow shirt out of her chair, parading her in front of the room, "-kinda shy, kinda smart, a total nobody. But she's got a secret."

"Mr. Burns! Stop fooling around! I simply asked for a recitation of your headline! Not a dramatic monologue!"

"Chill out, Mrs. G." Cale responded coolly, as his assistant in the yellow shirt sat down, "This is way better."

Willow was astounded by his confidence-how could he possibly have the nerve to stand up to an adult like that? Willow certainly didn't. The little girl looked on, transfixed by the strange boy with the spiky black hair as he continued his story, unabashed.

"But then, one day, you're walking down the hall," Cale slithered amongst the seats, "and you see this little girl. I'm talkin' three, four-five max, and she's just running around, unattended like." The student sped up his pace, nearing the front of the room, "and she's cryin' 'Mommy! Mommy-where are you?'" The guy gave his best impression of a squealing toddler, failing miserably while his peers cracked up. Cale soaked it all in, glowing in the spotlight. He took a breath, about to proceed with his tale, when something caught his eye, making him pause. Willow wasn't positive; but she was pretty sure that in that instance; the boy was staring at her. Shaking his head, Cale's attention returned to his audience, who sat glued to their seats in anticipation.

"So this kid is screaming, and a whole group of people are standing around her. They're not heartless; they just wanna help her out. But she doesn't like that, and she starts up even louder, cryin' and screamin' and whinin', until that same, shy, girl," The young man dragged Marie out of her seat again, "comes out from her room. She makes like she doesn't know what's goin' on," Cale picked up his partner's arms and made a shrugging motion, "and walks right into the crowd, askin' 'What is it?' 'What's going on?'" The student was met with more laughter as he headed towards the back of the class, but stops, one row in front of Willow's seat. The little girl could practically feel his breath on her skin.

"So then, she moves in, cuttin' past everyone 'till she makes it to the middle. And she and the kid are starin' eye to eye…" He paused for suspense.

"And then?" The girl in the yellow shirt asked the boy next to her.

"Then, the kid shouts one word-'Mommy!' and all the college students in the whole hallway find out that the sweet, innocent girl, the one no one noticed-is actually a slut with a kid to show for it."

"Is this true, Cale?" Mrs. Gregory inquired skeptically, "You know I won't have false rumors spread in my classroom."

"It totally is!" Cale cried, motivated by this confrontation, "And I can prove it!" Pushing Marie aside, the young man reached out to Willow, grabbed her little wrist, and pulled her up out of her seat with enough strength to pull her arm from its socket. The whole class gasped-that was definitely _not_ something they saw coming.

"See?" Cale cried, enthusiastic, "This is the kid! I saw the whole thing this morning!"

"So, like, who's the mom?" Marie asked, peering at the little red-head.

Cale snickered; this was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"None other than T-"

"Mommy!" Willow interrupted, rushing down the isle and throwing herself into the arms of the other woman with the yellow shirt.

"Tara Maclay?" The room was abuzz with chattering students, "Is what Cale tells me true? Is this child your daughter?" Mrs. Gregory politely prodded.

"I-I cant t-talk right n-now." The witch stuttered, picking up the little girl, "I-I have to g-go." And with those parting words, Tara left the journalists and their mentor to ponder the morning's events.

"So how's that for a headline?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc.

Chapter 5

Tara rushed from the language arts center, clutching a relieved four-year old to her chest out of the sight of others. The last thing the witch needed was to spread more rumors. Now that Cale, the school gossip knew about her untimely predicament, there was no telling what he would do.

Searching the grounds for some privacy, Tara found a secluded area beneath a bushy evergreen tree, where she promptly removed her charge's arms from around her neck and placed her on the ground. It was time for a serious discussion.

"Willow, why did you run away like that?" Tara asked the little girl, staring into her wide eyes.

"I didn't!" The child protested, shaking her head forcefully.

"Okay," the witch put a hand on the girl's shoulder to calm her down, "Then just tell me why you left my room."

"I was following you." Willow stated, "You wowe my favowite shiwt-the yellow one-and I saw you go with it."

Tara smiled. She knew her girlfriend always loved that color. Like that time when she was in kindergarten, and she wouldn't write with anything but a yellow crayon, and then she broke it-

Tara's reminiscing was cut short. How did she know that, anyway? Willow barely ever spoke of her early childhood; she only discussed supernatural stuff from her past. So how was it possible that the witch had remembered something she had never been told? Tara was seriously weirded out.

"Will, honey," Tara tried to hide her growing fear, "What do you remember about...stuff?" The witch ended her question pathetically.

"What 'stuff'?" The adorable child cocked her head, not understanding.

"You know, uh, memories about, um, us?" The young woman smiled encouragingly, "Like, what's your best memory of being here?" She offered.

The preschooler thought for a moment, squishing her index finger into her cheek as she contemplated, then responded, "My favowite memowy of hewe is when you took me to youw cwass about science, and the teachew let me hewp with the lesson."

Tara remembered exactly that. They had been discussing the effects of gravity, and when her professor saw Tara busy keeping her daughter occupied, he let the little girl come demonstrate Newton's Laws by tossing a ball in the air and watching it come down. But how could that have happened? Willow had only been a kid for a few hours; there was no possible way-unless it was a spell.

Tara smacked a hand to her head. Of course it was magic! Something must have gone wrong with the spell her girlfriend was attempting when she burst in the night before. The witch couldn't believe she didn't realize it before.

"Willow?" She turned to red-head, who was happily digging up soil from the ground, "We're going to make a quick stop at your room, okay?"

"Okay!" The kid grinned, her teeth stained a dark brown.

"Baby," Tara questioned, concerned, "What's that in your mouth?"

"A mud-pie!" The child held out her dirt-filled creation, which had a small, Willow-sized bite mark on the side, "Do you want some?" She offered generously.

"N-no thanks sweetie," Tara tried to keep from reprimanding the girl, "Um, why don't you spit that out?"

"Why?" The preschooler asked, her mouth stuffed with the brown gunk.

"Um…" The witch tried to come up with a good explanation, "Because mud-pies are made of dirt!" Tara nodded her head, trying to convince the little girl of her error.

"But I like diwt." Willow stuffed more soil into her mouth.

"But it has germs." Tara countered, her face serious and foreboding.

"Gewms?" The red-head looked scared.

"Yeah; you know; the things that make you sick that you can't see?"

"Sick?" Willow did _not_ like being sick. When she was sick, she couldn't go to daycare, and when she couldn't go to daycare, she had to stay at her grandpa's. And that was definitely not something she wanted to do.

"Ith i' aww gome?" The little girl asked hopefully as she sat on a sink, sticking out her tongue for Tara's inspection.

"Yes, honey. It's all gone." The college student breathed a sigh of relief when the child finally closed her mouth. They had spent approximately half an hour in the women's bathroom, while Willow insisted her mouth be cleaned with water, then toothpaste, then soap, at which point Tara drew the line. Who knew what they put into such products these days? Tara wasn't about to shove some unknown chemicals down her girlfriend's throat just so she could 'feel clean'.

"So, are you ready to go?" Tara prompted, wiping the last droplets of water off of Willow's face.

"Yeah!" The child cried eagerly. Now that she was germ-free, she was ready to do anything. In fact, the kid felt so invincible that she decided to jump off of the sink. While Tara, who had previously kept a firm grip on the girl, had her back turned, patting at her damp shirt with a paper towel, Willow made her move.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at me!" Willow shrieked. At this moment, she promptly stood up, lost her balance, and was about to smack her head on the linoleum when Tara, at the last possible second, caught her. The witch's heart was pounding.

"On second thought, honey, I think we'll stop by your room later. I think it's time we go visit Giles."

Buffy groaned, pushing down her comforter. Trying to get back to sleep had been no use; when the Slayer was up, she stayed up. Slipping into a pair of fluffy slippers, the young woman went about her normal Friday routine. Specifically, Friday meant 'cleaning day'. Despite this being so-called 'normal', it didn't happen often, as schedules weren't usually important when compared with the slaying of vampires and other baddies. Nonetheless, Buffy wasn't about to let her room turn into a pigsty, and at the rate she and Willow were going-it would be beyond that in another week. Thus, picking up the plastic, hand-held vacuum-cleaner, Buffy set to work banishing crumbs and dust from the floor. The Slayer grumbled while going about her arduous task, wishing her roommate might, for once, actually show up in time to help her. She didn't see that happening anytime soon. However, the young woman _did_ notice something else; some candles and a bowl of herbs covered in something greatly resembling blood, as well as a torn, blurred, brownish piece of parchment. Picking up the dilapidated object, Buffy tried to make out the words, but they were either in a seriously blurred language, or, which the Slayer banked on, the sheet was just too damaged to read. The young woman stared at the phenomenon, contemplating her next action. She could either save the parchment, leaving it on its owner's cluttered desk to be forgotten amongst the disorder, or throw it out. The Slayer decided on the latter, tossing the unsalvageable object into the trash. Turning back to the task at hand, something dawned on the young woman; Willow's desk was cluttered, messy, even unkempt! That was so _not_ Willow.

"It must have been that kid." Buffy mused, "How'd she get in here anyway?" The Slayer shrugged, getting back to vacuuming. She and Willow usually kept the door locked, so there wasn't really a possibility of the kid getting in at night, and when she left, Buffy remembered the child unlocking it. And what about Willow? Buffy's best friend didn't appear to have left the room at all, though Buffy was pretty sure she had seen the witch when she came back from patrolling. Or had she?

The Slayer paused to think, going into investigator mode. Maybe she hadn't seen Will. It was late and dark when Buffy came to the room-maybe her roommate had spent the night out with Tara. But on a Friday, when her earliest class began at eight? Unless there was a major crisis, Willow never went out on Thursday nights. The Slayer was getting nervous.

"I hope Will's cell is on." The worried woman murmured, dialing her friend's number into their phone.

'_Hi! This is Willow Rosenberg! I'm not really here right now, so leave me a message! Thanks for calling! Bye-'_

Buffy hung up, spotting the aforementioned cell vibrating on Willow's desk.

"Well, I guess the whole calling thing is out." The Slayer's face shot up, her eyes widening as a great revelation dawned upon her. The kid in her room looked awfully familiar. The matching eyes, the identical looks-it all made sense!!

"No wonder Will was unreachable!" Buffy rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, "Willow must be stuck babysitting her cousin!"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any Buffy the Vampire Slayer plotlines, characters, etc

Chapter 6

'Bang! Bang! Bang!' The sound of someone frantically pounding on the front door roused the watcher from his research.

"Just a moment." Giles called, rubbing his glasses as he moved to greet his visitor. The visitor didn't wait.

"Giles-help!" Tara pleaded, struggling to keep hold of a squirming, crying, child. The walk over had been anything but pleasant.

"What happened?" Giles asked, concerned for his favorite of the scoobies.

Tara put the kid down on the couch, where she continued to scream, and joined the older man.

"I-I'm not s-sure." Tara stuttered, "We were just walking over here, and everything was fine, and then there as this big dog-"

"A dog?" Rupert questioned.

"Yeah-it was just passing us on the street, but Willow completely freaked out when she saw it, and then-"

"Then she turned into a toddler?" The graying man cut her off.

"What?" Tara give Giles a look of puzzlement, "I'm just telling you why she's upset-I don't know how she turned into…" The witch nodded towards her miniature girlfriend, "_that_. Though I guess a dog could have played a part in it."

"Quite," Both adults stood in silence, listening to the sound of Willow's wails, "Um, could you possibly, well, maybe, make her…stop? The crying is extremely aggravating."

"Oh, sure." Tara picked up the red-head, assuring her that no dogs or any other four-legged creatures were permitted in Giles's house. As the screeching gradually stopped, the watcher lifted the book he had been studying and brought it over to the girls.

"This is what I've found so far," Rupert started, reading off the possible spells and curses that could possibly have caused Willow's evident change. Meanwhile, the little girl in question was getting bored, and very, very annoyed. No one seemed to realize how difficult it was to move around when covered in clothes ten times too big, which happened to be the current state of the young witch's wardrobe. The Green T-shirt she had been wearing as a full-sized woman had, unfortunately, not shrunk with her, much like her jeans, and her various…undergarments. The child tried to deal with this fact by shedding all clothes but the initial top, which reached a good five inches past her toes. But Willow was about to change that; if only she could find some scissors…

Tara paid no mind when the preschooler wriggled out of her grasp, caught up in a deep discussion with Giles, and still having no real clue as to how this whole thing had happened.

"But what about the memories?"

"Memories?" The watcher furrowed his brow.

"Yeah-the ones Willow and I both have." The young woman confirmed.

"The memories of when you were adults, or of Willow now?"

"Memories of Willow when she was little; things that didn't happen in real life, that we both remember." Tara clarified.

"Hm. That is strange." Giles agreed, "Perhaps I should look into memory-altering spells as well…"

The two were interrupted when a high voice interrupted, saying, "Look at me! Look at me Mommy!"

"Willow, what did you do?!" The child's 'mother' stared, appalled at the sight before her. Willow had apparently found the tool she had searched for, having used it to trim her over-sized robe. This, in itself, would have been fine, had the girl not went on to cut random circles out of the cloth, making, amongst other things, her bottom bare.

"Willow-don't use scissors if I'm not there to help you!" Tara scolded, grabbing them out of the kid's clenched fist.

"Why not?" The child questioned, truly not understanding the risk she had taken.

"You could have cut your fingers off!" The college student spoke harshly, "You could have killed yourself!"

'Kill'. That was a word little Willow had heard a _lot_. You didn't really live in Sunnydale and not understand its meaning. And _that_ was a scary one. So scary, in fact, that Willow, much like with dogs, was terrified, and, Tara being a 'villain' for having said it, rushed into Giles's arms, bawling for the second time.

"Gwanpa! Mommy was mean! Tell hew to say sowwy!" She sobbed into the Englishman's vest.

"Grandpa?" Giles gave a questioning glance to Tara, "Is that what you told her?"

"N-no." The witch shook her head, "S-she just comes up with names for people. I-I didn't tell her to call me 'Mommy' either."

"I see." The watcher thought deeply as he absentmindedly rubbed the four-year-old's back, "Indeed."

Tara observed the two; the standoffish elder and the adorable child. It was so…familiar. The scene reminded the young woman of Christmas last year, when everyone met up at Buffy's house, and Willow refused to sit on anyone's lap but Giles's, because, as she stated, 'I love him the best'. The witch smiled at the memory. She had been a little offended that her own daughter didn't want to stay with her mot-wait; 'daughter'? Since when had Tara thought of Willow that way? And how could she possibly remember Christmas with Willow? It never happened! The girl seriously needed to get out.

"So, Giles, it looks like Willow's going to need some new clothes." The witch suggested.

"Oh, yes, quite." The watcher agreed, pulled from his musings.

"Maybe I could go out and get them, since Willow doesn't really like me right now. And you guys look so comfy-"

Rupert cut her off, "Yes, yes. You can go."

"Great! Thanks Giles-you're the best!" Tara called, rushing from the apartment complex before the Englishman could argue.

"Well, I suppose it's just you and I now, Willow." The older man smiled at the child on his lap.

Willow's face distorted in rage at his remark. The watcher had _no_ idea what he was getting into.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I'm sure by now you realize I own nothing…yet.

Chapter 7

Tara gazed in awe at the vastness, at the choice. She had never really grasped just how big the mall really was. There were stores for everything she could possibly need or want-and for each of these there were at least ten shops to choose from, and within them, at least twenty different brands. But for clothes? The most sought-after product? How could the poor witch ever decide? The blonde tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she examined the large plastic map. She was on the first floor-right near the food court, and was trying to identify between fifteen different kids' stores. They all looked appealing, so Tara settled for the most logical way to decide where to spend her money.

"Eenie-meanie-miney-moe, catch a tiger by the toe…" The college student finished the well-known verse, her finger landing on a little shop called "Primary Colors". She vaguely wondered if their selection only featured blues, reds, and yellows, finding the combination rather dull, but, after all, 'eenie-meanie' had chosen, and who was Tara to argue with fate? Shrugging her shoulders, the young woman waited by the elevators for a ride to floor 3. It soon came, and with it, a rush of parents pushing out numerous youngsters.

"No Bobby-don't pull Kayla's hair!"

"Mom-Dan stole my cell-phone!"

"Shut up!"

"I feel sick…"

"Wahhhh!"

Tara shivered involuntarily. Would that be her in a few years? Willow had seemed to be a pretty docile kid-a little mischievous, but definitely with good intentions. Was it possible that she could turn into…_that_? The witch eyed a little girl throwing a hissy fit at her father's feet.

"Are you coming in?" An elderly woman's voice pulled her back into reality.

"Oh! Y-yes, thanks. S-sorry." She stuttered, making her way into the crowded lift.

Meanwhile, back at the watcher's place, Giles was dealing with a small issue…

"Don't do that!" A little red-head wailed, hitting the man's shins with weak fists.

"Do what, exactly?" Rupert was losing his patience. Tara had only been gone for fifteen minutes, and already Willow was throwing a fit.

"You know esactly what you did!" The child raged, angered by his 'fake' ignorance.

"Now listen here, Willow-"

"You did it again!"

"Did what?"

"You know esactly what!"

The watcher looked down at the girl, who continued to bludgeon his legs, and

sighed, defeated. He really did _not_ want to have the same conversation for the hundredth time that day. What could he possibly have done wrong? He was sure she never acted that way for 'Mommy'.

"Willow-"

"Don't do that!"

It hit him.

"Willow!"

"Don't do that!"

Giles smiled-he had found the provoking action.

"Wi-sweetheart, are you upset because I called you Willow?"

"You know I don't like that name! It's a twee! I don't wanna be called a twee!" Tears welled up in her green orbs, "People in my class make fun of me!"

The graying man had never really thought about that. It must have been difficult-growing up with a name like that. Most people named after plants are called 'Lily' or 'Violet', or some other pretty flower. But Willow? The tree whose leaves and branches fell like vines, giving the illusion of sorrowful weeping? The poor girl-no wonder she didn't like it! She must have not said anything to Tara because she didn't want to hurt her feelings-after all, in Willow's mind, it was she that had given her the name.

"Oh dear, I'm ever so sorry." The watcher lifted the rag-clothed child onto his lap, "Is there some other name you'd rather be called? Like…" Giles thought for a moment. Who was that red-headed fish-girl that children these days loved? Oh, yes!

"Ariel?" Rupert suggested, proud that he had remembered the cartoon's name.

"Like 'The Little Mewmaid?'" Willow questioned, "No. I don't want to be like hew. She was a pwincess."

The middle-aged man was confused. Didn't little girls like princesses? The child, however, set him straight by saying, "It's bad to be a pwincess. They'we too westwicted. With a lot of wules and stuff."

Giles was startled. Despite the obvious lisp, Willow was, even at a young age, still the intelligent person she was as an adult. She was definitely smarter than her fellow preschoolers, at least.

"That was a very good answer Willow." The watcher smiled. The girl glared at him.

"I mean, dear." He corrected himself before the child threw yet another tantrum.

"Not Deaw. Mommy is Deaw-Deawest. Tawa Deawest." Willow looked confused. Who called her mommy 'Tawa Deawest'? It wasn't her, and it wasn't Grandpa…maybe her aunt? No…it was Mommy. Mommy called Mommy that. But it was a different Mommy…

The child pondered this for a while. So long, in fact, that the watcher became worried.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" The red-head shook her head. She could ask Mommy about that later-she would know.

"Yeah. I'm okay." Giles smiled.

"Well then, shall we continue to think of a name for you?" He prompted.

"Yeah! A weally gweat one!"

"Hm…" Tara surveyed the many dress options before her, marveling at how anyone could possibly manage to come up with so many different styles for such tiny outfits. Willow was abnormally small for her age. She still had the remnants of baby fat all over her body, but even with the extra plumpness, she would still need clothes befitting a three-year-old. Maybe even a two-year-old, if the sizes ran large.

The witch took down a yellow outfit from one of 'Primary Colors'" many primary-colored shelves. If Tara recalled correctly, little Willow was a big fan of the light shade. Grabbing a few miniature-sized yellow shorts and tees, as well as some green and purple garments which Tara was sure would bring our Willow's beautiful eyes, the young woman decided she was ready to go.

"Wow. You definitely splurged." The cashier noted, eyeing the many piles of multicolored cloth before her.

"Yeah. I guess so." The young woman agreed, good-naturedly.

"Well," the "Primary Colors" employee informed, ringing up the many purchases, "That'll be eight-hundred-twenty dollars, and fifty-nine cents."

"E-excuse me?" Tara asked, bewildered. She had always shopped at discount stores, where everything was cheap and on sale. Being scorned by her father, the witch had learned to carefully manage the small allowance she was given for clothes and school items to make the most of it. But eight-hundred-twenty dollars? She had never in her life spent so much on something as trivial as clothes. However, this was Willow, and there was nothing she wouldn't do-or buy for her, especially in her vulnerable state. And who knew how long she would be stuck as a little kid? The poor child might actually need all of the stuff Tara had bought. Thus, with this new and generous outlook, the young woman dug into her pocket, pulled out some hundred-dollar bills, and handed them to the woman behind the register.

"Here you go," Tara smiled, gathering up her bags, "and keep the change."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I'm sure by now you realize I own nothing…yet.

Chapter 8

"Hey Giles!" The Slayer barged into his unlocked apartment, "Anybody home?"

No one answered. Due to the many bizarre occurrences in Sunnydale; this concerned Buffy, who began to cautiously search the premises for her lost watcher.

"Giles!" The blonde searched the kitchen, the den, and the foyer with no result. However, she _did_ note the cereal scattered over the floor, as well as the ink-blots on Rupert's usually spotless research papers, not to mention the ripped-up pillow on the couch. Something was definitely not right.

"Giles?" She tried again; still no response, "Gi-les; where are you?"

At this unusual pronunciation of the name, the girl heard a small giggle coming from the bedroom.

"Gi-aww!" The Slayer halted her repetition, overcome with emotion at the cute scene before her.

The graying man lay sprawled on his bed, one leg dangling off it, with one arm around his chest and the other spread out next to him, as if to hold a small person. This 'small person' was, in fact, very much awake, holding in her tiny palm a black marker.

"You are such a cutie!" Buffy moved to sit beside the child, "What are you doing?"

"Just dwawing." She smiled innocently.

"Cool." The college girl affirmed. Then, remembering the day's earlier events, she asked, "Hey; do you know where Willow is? I haven't seen her sin-"

"Willow is gone." The red-head frowned, "And she's nevew coming back. She's banished-fowevew."

"I see…" The two, or, rather, three, sat there quietly for a moment, the youngest of them squinting her emerald eyes at the Slayer, as if summing her up.

"So; is Giles babysitting you?"

The little girl nodded. "Yes. Gwanpa's babysitting me. But Mommy will be back soon." The four-year-old assured her, "She went shopping."

"Shopping?" Eyeing the child's torn clothes, Buffy could guess why, "So; what's you name kiddo?"

"Kiddo' is not my name." The preschooler clarified, "It's Awat."

"Awat?"

"Yeah; that's my Mommy's name spelled backwawds."

"Oh, okay." The blonde was seriously confused. What kind of an aunt did Willow have? Who names their kid their own name backwards? No wonder her best friend had such a…unique personality.

"I know you." The so-called 'Awat' claimed, suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"You'we Buffy. Auntie Buffy."

"Auntie? What the Hell-I mean, heck, are you talking about?" The Slayer tried to clean up her language around the youngster.

"You'we not my weal auntie-because Mommy doesn't have any weal sistews. But you'we Mommy's fwiend, and hew fwiends awe ouw family. Like Gwanpa Giles."

This was seriously weird. How did this kid know anything about Buffy-or Giles, for that matter? Was Willow just trying to play some sort of joke on her? That didn't seem like her; using innocent children to help with her dirty work. But who was this girl's mother? Maybe the Slayer _did_ know this 'Tawa'. From high school maybe…or college…

"Hi guys! I'm home!" A second blonde, whose arms were filled with bags, entered the apartment.

"Mommy!" The red-head rushed into the woman's outstretched arms.

"Tara?" Buffy asked in disbelief, following 'Awat' out of the bedroom.

"B-Buffy? W-what are you d-doing here?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to know." The yawning Englishman joined the party, rubbing his glasses.

"Oh, I-I just came in a few minutes ago-the door was unlocked so I just…what happened to your face?" The Slayer was indeed correct; there _was_ something different about Rupert.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." The man said, clueless, as he put on his wire-frame glasses, "Did someone turn the lights out?"

The blondes struggled to retain giggles.

"What? What is it?" The watcher asked, feeling his way across the room.

"Take off the glasses." The shorter of the students suggested.

Giles did so. "Ah. Much better." Then, viewing the blackened lenses, "What the devil happened!" Sniffing the dark coating, he noted, "It smells like ink."

Willow giggled, dropping the offending object to reveal two dirty, darkened, hands. Picking up the writing utensil, Buffy read aloud, "Ebony Black permanent marker."

_Uh oh_. Giles was _not_ going to like this. Not one bit.

"Did you say, um, permanent?" Tara nodded, timidly.

"Well then, at least all she drew on were my lenses." The guilty child started shaking her head.

"No-that wasn't all I dwew."

"Hm?" The elder man checked his pants, and his shirt; all were unblemished. However, he noticed the small spurts of laughter from the assorted girls in front of him, "What?"

The Slayer pointed to his face.

"Bad girl Willow. That was a very mean thing to do to your Grandpa." Tara whispered harshly into the kid's ear.

"You can't be serious-" At which point, Giles caught his reflection in a nearby mirror.

His usually debonair and, in his opinion, striking face was now tainted by a curled, badly-drawn, moustache, as well as a triangular-ish goatee, and assorted scribbles on his cheeks and forehead. Buffy couldn't believe she didn't notice it when she saw him sleeping earlier. On the bright side, though, in a slightly charming manner, there was a small note on the side of his jaw that read 'I love U Granpa'. Regardless; the watcher was _not_ amused.

Trying his best to keep his cool, the graying man walked up to the woman holding the criminal, and said curtly, "She's _your_ daughter; I expect you to punish her accordingly."

"Daughter?" Buffy questioned, knowing she had missed something, "What's going on?

"W-well-"

"I'm not quite sure-"

"S-she just came into my room-"

"-they got here a number of hours ago-"

"-and I-I wasn't sure w-where she was-"

"-you see, they're having these memories-"

"-I n-needed help, s-so I came here-"

"Stop it!" The Slayer interrupted, unable to follow both at once, "Let me get this straight-this is Willow's cousin; Awat, who she got stuck babysitting, but left with me, but when I lost her she found someone that looked similar to her mother; which would be Tara, and then you came to Giles so he could babysit while you went to class?"

"W-what?" Tara hadn't quite followed her friend's botched story.

"Pardon?"

"T-that's not really what h-happened."

"For all intents and purposes; this is Tara's daughter." The single man in the room explained, gaining a quizzical look from Willow's 'mother'.

"Really? You had a kid before coming here?" The blonde turned to the woman holding 'Awat'.

"S-sort of, I-I guess…"

"And she's visiting for an unspecific amount of time. Thus, I offered my babysitting service so that Tara could make it to class."

"O-or shop." The witch glanced at her many purchases.

"Okay." The Slayer begrudgingly bought into her mentor's story, "But that still doesn't explain why that kid looks like mini-Willow."

"M-my ex-boyfriend," Buffy's eyes grew wide, "B-before I realized what I-I was, looked a-a lot like her."

"So; where's the large-size Willow?"

"Well, um, you see-" Tara cut him off.

"S-she's visiting her g-grandma." The student smiled at her quick thinking, "S-she's not sure w-when she'll be b-back."

"That still doesn't explain why she didn't tell me." The stubborn girl insisted.

"S-she was very sick-her grandmother, I mean-and she d-didn't want to w-waste any time letting people kn-now."

"Oh. I should probably call her-"

"No! The witch and watcher cried simultaneously.

"I'm sure Willow won't want to be, um, disturbed during this, um, sad time with her kin."

"You're right." Buffy agreed, "I'll just talk to her when she gets back."

Tara heaved a sigh of relief.

"So; did you really name your kid Awat?" The Slayer changed the subject.

"W-what?" The witch hadn't thought of any name but the child's true one.

"Awat-or, Arat, I guess. She said her name was the same as yours only backwards." Buffy smiled at the red-head.

"H-her name i-is…" Tara considered this for a moment. She knew she wanted a family someday, and, no offense to her girlfriend; there was no way she was naming them anything remotely resembling either of their first names. But their middle names-wasn't Willow's- "Danielle. Her name is Danielle McClay."

"It is?" The child looked up at her 'mother' quizzically. Then, deciding that the name was definitely cooler than her own real or made up ones, she amended, "Oh yeah-I knew that."

"Glad to hear it." Buffy chuckled. For a kid that wasn't related to Willow; she sure acted like it. The Slayer took a moment to view Tara and her self-proclaimed daughter, while Giles rushed to the lavatory to clean his face. The two looked natural together-but the blonde witch had always been the motherly type, so that wasn't a surprise. It was just weird that they didn't look anything ali-oh, wait. That wasn't right. Upon closer inspection, Buffy noticed the girl's blonde highlights, and the turquoise color of her eyes; that girl was totally Tara's-you just had to look closely. The young woman in question was noticing these things too, and, knowing that the little girl had been nothing but a small Willow-doppelganger when she left, was quite perturbed.

"It won't come off." Giles muttered miserably, leaving the bathroom to join his guests, "Naughty, naughty girl!" He shook his finger at the little monst-adorable child in Tara's arms. The preschooler just laughed.

"Tara, please; do _something_ to keep her in line. Without discipline you'll end up with a disrespectful, spoiled-"

""You wouldn't be talking about little old me, would you?" The Slayer interjected. Rupert decided not to answer her.

Nonetheless, the watcher was right; Willow _did_ need to be scolded. "Danielle," The new mother began, calmly, "don't you _ever_ do that to Grandpa again. Okay?" Unbeknownst to Tara, she happened to sound like another, far-off adult that the child remembered; only _this_ one would hit her instead of just yelling. Thus, filled with these frightening thoughts, the poor girl began to cry.

"M-maybe I was t-too harsh."

"Not at all. All children need to learn to behave sometime." The elder man reassured her.

Now, some people can stand crying children, possibly even extremely loud and shrill ones like 'Danielle', but Ms. Summers was _not_ one of those people. Not if she could help it, at least.

"Oh! I just remembered-I have a class in fifteen minutes! I'll see you later! By Dani!" The blonde hurriedly waved as she cleared out.

After the door had slammed shut; Tara turned to Giles.

"So; w-what was that a-about?"

"What was what about?"

"Y-you said Willow w-was my kid. W-why didn't you tell her the truth?" The witch questioned.

"Well, what with the, um, upcoming apocalypse, and Glory on the loose, I thought it would, um, be best if she wasn't worried by an additional crisis. Don't you?" The watcher asked sincerely.

"I-I guess so…" Tara agreed, still holding the squirming preschooler, "But w-what am I s-supposed to do? I-I can't keep her."

"And why not?" Rupert was skeptical, "I'm sure there is more than enough space in your dorm for the two of you; and no one should complain about it if they don't find out."

"I-I need to go to my classes; where-"

"As usual," the elder man interrupted, "I am at your service. For babysitting, that is."

"Okay." The student answered with a newfound confidence. Maybe this whole mini-Willow thing wouldn't be an issue at all. Thus, gathering her things, Tara prepared to leave the apartment, one arm full of shopping bags, and the other firmly grasping Willow.

"Oh; and there's one more thing." The gray-headed guy stopped her, "I believe that this whole thing was caused by some mistake in a spell Willow performed. You did mention she was doing something magic-related when you last saw her, did you not?"

The blonde woman recalled this section of their conversation, nodding her head.

"Then I should like it if you checked her room-discreetly, of course. I shouldn't want you distressing Buffy."

"O-of course." Tara responded. She would never dream of causing her friend any discontent. However, Willow was way more important to her, and with every moment, she was changing. What had become of the confident child that had so arrogantly drawn on Giles' face? She seemed placid now-almost shy. What in goddess's name was going on? The witch, obviously, had no idea. But if it meant bugging the already perturbed Slayer for details; she would do it.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing…yet.

Chapter 9

"We're home!" The red-head giggled. Tara dumped her bags, and her child, on the floor, in need of a good stretch. Willow took this opportunity to jump onto the witch's double-bed, getting dirt marks all over the coverlet.

"Whewe awe we going to put all my new clothes?" The child asked after a while, finally settling down.

"That's a good question…" The blonde hadn't really considered that before she bought everything, "I-I guess we'll stuff as much as possible in here and then put the rest in you-I mean, Buffy's room."

Willow looked contemplative, examining the stained sheets. As she stared at the muddy lines, tears began forming in her teal eyes.

"What is it, baby?" The maternal woman rushed to her 'daughter's' side.

"I'I made the sh-sheets diwty!" She cried.

"Oh, Willow, honey, it's okay." Tara hugged the wailing girl, "I didn't like these covers anyway."

"Awe you suwe?" The four-year-old wiped her wet face on the witch's sleeve.

"Yes-I'm sure." The college student didn't care about some crummy sheets; she had bigger things to deal with.

It took a little while for the little doppelganger to calm down, but when she did, exhausted from the day's events, she fell sound asleep, cradled in her foster mother's arms. Gazing down at the pretty cherub, Tara silently questioned her odd mood swings, and especially her changing appearance. As far as she knew, Willow hadn't been restrained as a child, as her parents didn't have the time to pay attention to her, and had probably been given little to no restrictions as to what she could and could not do. That explained the red-head's rebellious taking-matters-into-your-own-hands attitude, but the guilt? The tears over a little mud? That wasn't like her. In fact that was a lot more like…Tara. She had always been scared and teary-eyed as a little girl, terrified of her abusive father. Could that be it? Was it possible that Willow's replica was changing into a combination of the two witches? The blonde gently pried the sleeping child's fingers from her shirt, quietly heading for the dorm room door. There was only one way to find out.

Buffy was just getting ready to leave. She had the appropriate amount of stakes and crosses, as well as the proper fighting attire…if you called 2-inch heeled leather boots vamp-fighting-approved. At least they were sharp enough to kill-that was a bonus. The Slayer tied her golden locks into a well-styled pony-tail; she was ready. Heading out into the hall, she almost forgot her most important task.

"Ugh." Turning back towards the room she had grown to both love and detest, the young woman set about her one obligation. Willow had no problem using spells to tidy up the pigsty of their dorm, but she hadn't yet come across a way to use magic to vanish the garbage. The last time she tried a temporal fold sucked it up, promptly reopening over a certain blonde's head, making her newly-showered smell become something a tad more rancid. Nonetheless; from that day on, the witch had been forbidden from any 'garbage-related' spells, and Buffy had agreed to the formidable task of taking out the trash.

"Come on, Buffy. You can do this." The college student tried to convince herself, "G-d;this stuff reeks." The Summers girl really didn't know why the small amount of trash collected each week created such a strong odor, and she dreaded the one day of a week she had to face it alone. Sighing, and pinching her burning nose, the Slayer tied up the plastic bag, holding it as far from her face as possible.

"Willow _so_ owes me for this." And with that, she promptly left for the dumpster outside, and to attend to her supernatural duties.

Tara, in the meantime, had cast a spell on herself. The very one, in fact, that Willow had created when she forgot to add blueberries to the color-changing spell cast on Miss Kitty Fantastico. Thus, she was unseen by Buffy who walked right past her on her way to slay, holding an offending item far from her nose. The witch smiled; it wasn't often that she performed spells without her girlfriend, and to be successful on her own was a very empowering feeling. Hence, in her invisible successfulness, the blonde crept into the Slayer's room, which, in her hurry to rid herself of the waste in her hand, she had forgotten to lock. Not that it mattered. A locked door wasn't a match for magic.

Looking around the room, Tara, much like her girlfriend's roommate, noticed the unseemly mess on Willow's desk. Little Willow's doing, no doubt. Regardless, a lot of information could be found in a pile of unorganized papers, so the witch wasted no time in sifting through it. After a careful hour-long inspection, the blonde deemed the desk's contents insignificant, and proceeded to move on to her girlfriend's end table. A fifteen minute search of all miniature texts contained therein proved them unworthy of attention. The twin beds shielded no important facts either, much like the shared closet, and the Slayer's practically unused desk. Her head in her hands, Tara kneeled on the floor. Had she not done this, she would not have seen that which, upon lowering her hands, so clearly led her to a conclusion about the whereabouts of little Willow's origin.

The blonde witch had seen Willow casting the spell that preceded their predicament. Therefore, she also observed the blood, and the various herbs, and all other obvious aspects of the spell. But numerous sets of ingredients are utilized in a number of different enchantments, so Tara had no way of knowing what her girlfriend was attempting to do. But the phenomenon she observed before her, caught and half-hidden by the room's sole rug, put it all into place…sort of.

The witch grabbed the piece of parchment, reading it as if her life depended on it. The language was Latin, a common choice for spells and particularly easy for her to read. Unfortunately, the small, bloodstained fragment held a variety of mismatched words, which could only be made sense of if the other pieces were present. Groaning in defeat, about to give up the search as a lost cause; something occurred to the young woman. What if Buffy had thrown them out? Tara knew of Willow and her roommate's scarcely-occurring dorm-cleaning, but she also knew that if Willow had been casting a spell that needed blood; it was probably messy. She also knew that after a certain amount of messiness, the Slayer was apt to clean the place herself, and if that had been the case… she probably threw out the spell! The witch grinned at her superior knowledge, and headed over to the room's garbage can, letting her jaw drop when she found it empty. Was it possible that the garbage was what Buffy was cautiously shipping from the room? There seemed to be no other explanation. Tara knew what she had to do.

Rising from her seat on Willow's bed, she made for the door, which opened to reveal none other than the Slayer, who threw her things on her bed and locked it behind her.

"_What_ a night." She muttered to herself. Tara had to agree.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Yup…I still own nothing.

Chapter 10

Buffy shrugged off her black leather jacket, draping it over her desk chair. Yawning, she glanced over at her alarm clock, its angry red numbers glaring 1:00. The blonde smiled. She was lucky; the slaying that night had been minimal, so she was home extra early. That thought amused her; 1:00 am was most people's idea of late. Nonetheless, early or not, the blonde girl was exhausted. Her muscles ached, and she had a killer bruise, not caused from vamps so much as slamming her leg into the corner of her desk the other day. Thus, she decided to call it a night.

Tara stood still, afraid to make any sudden movements. Invisible or not; she was no match for the Slayer, whose abilities in late-night combat didn't require her opponents to be easily spotted. She watched from the other side of the room as Buffy stretched, sighing and yawning alternately as she headed over to her dresser. It wasn't until the witch saw her pull out a pair of blue-cotton pajamas that she realized what she was doing.

"Oh Goddess…" The poor woman groaned softly.

Unfortunately, it wasn't softly enough.

"Hello?" Buffy looked around her dorm cautiously, grabbing a stake from inside her coat, "Is anyone there?"

The room was still; Tara didn't even dare to breathe. However, just as the Slayer was in the midst of putting down her stake…

"Achoo!" Tara sneezed. It wasn't one of those silent, unheard sneezes either; this one was _loud_.

"Who's there?" The Slayer asked again, "Come out and fight me like a…" The college student paused, unsure of what to call her unseen opponent, "Whatever you are!"

Tara rolled her eyes at the young woman's antics, as Buffy stiffened, waiting for her adversary's inevitable movement. The blue-eyed one stayed still, waiting for the Slayer to end her pursuit. But instead of giving up, the blonde lunged after her unseen companion, missing the witch's head by an inch. That was it; Tara couldn't just wait for her friend to land a stake correctly; in fact, she found the prospect of staying alive quite enticing. Besides; she had a kid waiting for her; and she needed to get back.

Meanwhile, in Tara's dorm room, a little girl was stirring under the covers.

"Mommy! Eeemah! Come back!" The red-head awoke, covered in sweat, her clothes and sheets torn and ragged. What had just happened; where was she? The memories came flooding back. She was safe in her mother's bed, and adrenaline-pumped from her frightening nightmare. The child couldn't recall the exact details, but she _did_ remember her parents-both of them, were there. So where was her Eemah? She knew here Mommy, at least, was supposed to be here…

"Mommy?" The four-year-old frantically scanned the room for her lost relative, "Mommy; whewe awe you?"

Jumping out from under the sheets, the girl searched the depths of the darkened bedroom. There were only dust-bunnies under the bed; something she knew Aunt Anya would _not_ appreciate, and all corners of the room were filled with spell-books and CDs. The desk chair was empty too, save for the shopping bag or two Tara had set down on it, and the closet? There was _no_ way she was going near there. It freaked her out. After this thorough exploration, the child decided there was only one thing that could have happened; her Mommy must have been kidnapped. That would explain the torn sheets and stuff, right? And if that was true, then it was Willow's responsibility to save her. Hence, grabbing a baseball bat; the only weapon-like thing her mother had allowed her to hold, the little red-head set out.

"Don't wowwy." She assured Tara, as if the woman could hear her, "I'll save you."

"Aargh!" Cried that Slayer, chasing the transparent creature around the room, "Take _that_!" She threw a punch that grazed Tara's delicate shoulder.

"Ow!" She moaned, silently, as she crept closer to the door.

"Oh, no; don't you try that!" Buffy smirked at her opponent, "I'm not letting you get away _that_ easily." She swung her leg around to knock the unseen force off it's feet, when, all of a sudden, she stopped in mid-air.

"Sorry, um, I'm not really in the mood to, um, do this, uh, right now." The witch deepened her voice to preserve her identity.

"What do you mean; you don't want to do this now?" She stared at Tara's general area, "You snuck into my room, for crying out loud!"

"Yeah; and I'm, uh, sneaking out." Tara dropped the Slayer's ankle, taking the split-second it took for the girl to regain her composure to unlock the door and run out into the hall.

"You get back here!" The blonde called from her doorway, shaking a carefully manicured fist, "This isn't finished!"

But Tara wasn't listening; she had a destination, and she needed to get there-fast. Who knew what time the garbage truck came?

"Mommy?" The little girl questioned, heading down the hallway, "Awe you hewe?"

No one responded.

"Mommy?" The child came across a door that was slightly ajar, and, seeing the warm glow from within, decided to enter into the light, "Mommy?"


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing…related to this series, that is.

Chapter 11

"What the He-"

"Language!" The initial man's roommate scolded, grinning at the girl, "You need to watch it around the little people."

"Do you know this kid?" His friend insisted.

"Of course I do."

_He_ may have been sure; but the red-head wasn't.

Seeing the skepticism reflected in her face, he smiled; "I'm Cale, remember?"

She did.

"You came to my class the other day."

The child nodded, recognizing the shady character. "I wemembew."

"Cool." He eyed her shredded garments, "What's your name, honey?"

"Danielle." She promptly replied. After all, Mommy _had_ told Aunt Buffy that Danielle was her official name. No one needed to know about the old days when she was known as 'Willow, the weepy tree'.

"So; are you lost, or did you just come special to see me?" Cale continued. His roommate snickered, but the child didn't see what was so funny.

"I'm looking fow my Mommy." She confided.

"Tara, right?"

The girl nodded shyly.

"Did you run away again?" Cale inquired.

"No. I woke up and Mommy wasn't thewe."

"She wasn't there?" The young man gasped in mock concern, which the girl was slow to pick up on.

The pathetic child stood forlorn, not feeling the need to answer Cale's rhetoric question.

Seeing the child's reluctance to warm up to him, the college student changed the subject.

"So what about your clothes?"

"They'we wipped." The girl stated the obvious.

"And how did that happen?" He patiently waited for her response.

"Mommy was kidnapped, and the kidnappews must have done it when they wewe twying to gwab me fwom hew; but they couldn't get me, so they took Mommy instead."

The boy listened to his guest's childish logic with amusement. The poor thing thought her Mommy had been kidnapped? Try _abandoned_. He could see the headline now.

"Come on sweetie." Cale grabbed the child's hand, "I know just where to find her."

Back at the ranch, or rather, the dumpster, a certain witch was being suffocated. Not so much by another person, or a plastic bag, so much as by the stench. What could kids these days possibly have thrown away that created such a horrendous odor? Tara couldn't venture to guess. But she _did_ know of one thing that was buried in the debris; and it was something she had to find; fast. The dumpster truck came at 6:00 am; she had four and a half hours.

For an average person, the finding of an ancient text in a pile of garbage would entail the use of their own hands to sort through the immeasurable amount of trash, leaving them not only with the sought-after object, but also with an irrevocable stench that would remain on their skin for days. However, in Ms. Maclay's case, only one of the aforementioned outcomes would be attained. After the utterance of a few choice chants, the black plastic bags began to rise in the air, lining up before the witch. Placing a hand above the first collection of junk, the bag was illuminated, and, with the use of her mind's eye, Tara was able to quickly skim the contents. Deeming the bag of no value, the young woman released her intangible hold, allowing the petroleum-encased garbage to fall back into the dumpster.

"One down, twenty-two to go." The blonde sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"Can we go now?" The irate four-year-old whined. Cale had taken her not to her mother-but to a payphone.

"Just a sec-I'm on hold." He didn't bother to look at the child as he spoke, merely gripping her tiny wrist so she couldn't run off.

She tapped her foot impatiently. They had been 'on hold' for at least fifteen minutes. And it took way less than that for someone to get hurt. Like Mommy, for instance.

"_Hello?"_ A voice on the other line crackled through the earpiece.

"Hi; I'm Cale Burns."

"_How can I help you, Mr. Burns?"_ The woman politely prompted.

"I have a little girl with me, by the name of Danielle Maclay."

"_Yes? Is she alright?"_ The woman asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah-she's alive and all. But her clothes are kind of ripped up, and she's got a couple of bruises-"

"_Are you a relative?"_

"No; just a helpful kinda guy. She just walked into my room-"

"_Which is where, exactly?"_

"Sunnydale U; in Sunnydale California." He confided.

The red-head, who had previously been counting the cracks in the wall, tuned in to her current guardian's conversation.

"Anyway, she keeps muttering something about her mother leaving her-I think there might have been some abuse too; but she won't admit to anything."

The girl looked up at Cale questioningly. Abused? Why was he using that word in relation to her? Her Mommy never touched her-never!

The young man listened to person on the other line for a moment, before answering, "Yeah. I've seen Tara Maclay-her mom-take her around school. She lost the kid the other day, and she didn't seem too pleased that she left. Who knows? Maybe she thought the kid needed to learn her lesson with a good beating-"

"I'm not abused!" The girl in question protested, searching for any sign of understanding in her captor's cold, sly face, "Mommy loves me –she wouldn't huwt me-nevew!"

The student ignored her.

"Yeah; that was her. I think she's in denial or something. You'll come pick her up? Great. I'll meet you in the front building in half an hour." He grinned evilly, "Thank you so much for all your help. I don't know what she would have done without you." The literature major slammed the phone down in its cradle.

"You lied! You lied to them!" Tears were streaming down the young girl's pale face, her turquoise eyes more blue than ever.

"That's life kid-it's just a hoax. The truth? Doesn't matter. What people _think_ happened? _That_ is what it's all about. That's media. And you can't have 'media' without 'me'." He chuckled at his own amateur pun.

"B-but you lied!"

"So what? No one knows that but you. And who do you think everyone's going to believe? _You_, or _me_?"

She wasn't going to stand for this. Working fast, the little girl twisted her arm out of Cale's stronghold, and ran down the deserted hall.

"Oh no you don't!" The older boy's long legs enabled him to quickly catch the screaming child, "Shut up!" He whispered harshly.

She paid him no heed, and the screeching continued as he dragged her towards the main building.

"If you ruin this for me-if I don't get my headline because _you_ messed it up, I swear I will hunt you down, and by the time I'm finished; not even your 'pwecious' Mommy will be able to recognize you."

'Danielle' may have been little; but she understood a threat when she heard one, and she was intelligent enough to realize that between the two of them; Cale was sure to win in any type of physical competition. She was no match for his fully-developed adult body. The whole situation was hopeless.

"I w-want m-my M-m-mommy!" The four-year old cried, as most sad children do.

"I said; shut up!" The older of the two reminded, squeezing her so tightly it hurt.

She didn't need to be asked twice. After all, her life was in _his_ hands now.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own naught but my soul…and that of a few others.

Chapter 12

Tara sighed as she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, her exhaustion increasing with every passing minute. Using magic for such an elongated period of time was definitely _not_ healthy; especially when combined with that horrible odor. The witch wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to hold out. Almost forty minutes had passed, and still she wasn't done searching the trash. The poor college student was burning out.

"Seven!" The blonde released yet another heavyweight bag back into the dumpster's putrid, plastic depths, "Willow is going to be in _so_ much trouble once I turn her back!" The witch grumbled to herself. However, her attention, which, up until then, had been focused on the uncleanly task at hand, was quickly grabbed by the loud rumble of a black, four-door sedan, which proceeded to drive right past her.

The young woman watched with curiosity as a lady in a navy-blue suit left the vehicle, carrying with her a briefcase and an air of determination. She vaguely reminded Tara of a faint memory from when she was a little girl-but what was it?

The witch thought on it for a minute longer. Who could possibly have come at such a ridiculous hour? And a business woman? That didn't seem right…

Shrugging, since this strange late-night entrance had nothing whatsoever to do with her, Tara returned to her current occupation, dismissing the occurrence from her mind.

"Mr. Burns?" A middle-aged woman inquired.

"Yeah; that's me." Cale smiled forlornly, like the whole situation pained him.

"I'm Arlene; from social services." She shook the college student's hand firmly, sizing him up with hard, steel eyes, "Is that her?" The hard woman pointed a sharp, manicured index finger at the little ball of auburn hair and tear-soaked pajamas curled up by the dormitories' glass double-doors.

Cale nodded, moving to speak, but a quick flick of Arlene's wrist in his general direction silenced the boy. Willow, on the other hand, was not so easy to quiet down. Cautiously edging nearer to the small child, the graying dame kneeled down to her level, icy eyes magnified by square, horn-rimmed lenses.

"Danielle?" She questioned; though it was more of a statement than anything else. The little girl remained in the fetal position, not even bothering to glance at the wiry frame before her, merely offering a timid, "P-please go a-away."

The phrase, barely whispered, did not go unheard.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Miss Maclay." The woman's voice matched her unbecoming, angular features; sharp and unpleasant, "It seems that your mother has been performing her maternal duties in a less-than-adequate fashion. Clearly, Danielle, you must understand that action _needs_ to be taken."

Understand? How could young Willow possibly comprehend that justice called for her mother, who had never done anything remotely blameworthy, to be taken from her for abuses which never occurred? The fact is, she could not. However, being of somewhat heightened intelligence for a girl of her age, the child _was_ able to understand what Cale was planning. Thus, her only goal at the current juncture was to thwart the villainous college student, and somehow make the wizened social worker before her believe that her mother was naught but the pinnacle of human angelic-ness. But just how to go about this? _That_ was the difficult part.

"Ok," The blonde witch strained to keep up her morale, "Just fourteen left!"

The poor, desperate young adult struggled not to faint from the dumpster's vile odor. She had initially thought that the more time she had spent in close proximity to the garbage, the more immunity she'd gain to the stench, but, quite obviously, this was _not_ the case.

The trooper wiped a few beads of sweat off her pale brow with her free arm, and did her best to breath through the cotton of her blouse, using it as a sort of makeshift filter. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Tara loved her little girl just as much as her girlfriend, but she had to question; was it really worth all this hard labor to change Willow back? As a child-as _her_ child, the red-head was not only as loving and loyal as her older self, but also far more considerate to Tara's will. She could be sure that her little, speech-impaired, cherub wouldn't cast unnecessary spells, or hurt her, or leave her…

The college student hung her head, ashamed at her thoughts. Willow was no easier to deal with and no more lovable as a child than as a grown woman; and Tara realized that though a child-version of her lover would be less likely to leave her, or stop feeling affection towards her, nothing could replace the void that the older version left behind, and Willow had the right to return to her former state. After all, where would Tara have been if her own mother hadn't been there to bail her out of numerous magical mishaps?

The witch considered this for a moment. With all the amateur, failed spells she attempted as a child, it was anyone's guess as to what additional punishments her father would have bestowed upon her had he found out. It was only Tara's dear, sweet mother's quick mind that helped her cover up the bulk of her mistakes, so that her father only beat her because she existed, and for what she was, rather than for her actions.

At this instant, something clicked in the young woman's mind, and the twelfth bag of garbage she had been levitating dropped back into the heap of those yet unchecked. She knew who the old woman in the navy suit was. And she wasn't a business woman…or a social worker.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own…nada.

Chapter 13

Cale watched as Arlene crouched down with the frightened little girl. He found the scene to be incredibly unexciting. What he had expected to be the pinnacle of his journalistic success; the story of a bawling child dragged from an unfit college-age mother by the cruel hand of the state, was turning into something even the most avid of Sunnydale U readers wouldn't pick up. Where was the drama?

"Can't you just, like, take her already? While she's crying?" The young man suggested, trying to make the best of the situation.

The steel-haired woman glared at him over her spectacles before turning back to the toddler before her. Cale rolled his eyes. It seemed he would have to spice his story up with a bit of drastic embellishment. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out an old pencil, used almost to a stub, and a small notebook.

_At approximately 3:00am last night, Sunnydale U's youngest boarder was taken in a heart-wrenching struggle between her family, and the state. The state, represented by social worker-_

"Arlene, right?" The columnist clarified.

"Mr. Burns, I am a bit preoccupied at the mom-"

"Got a last name to go with that?" He probed.

"If you would be so kind as to let me do my jo-"

"I'm just trying to get the facts; I run a paper that has to be out be tomo-"

"MR. BURNS!"

The elder's back grew rigid. In fact, her entire posture began to contort itself into something…not so human.

'Arlene' turned around.

"Oh my goddess!" Tara surveyed her cluttered dorm room. Traces of Willow were everywhere; on the ripped sheets, the clump of cat fur she had 'accidentally' pulled off of Miss Kitty Fantastico-but the babe herself was very much gone.

Tara was in a panic; if that woman was who, or rather, _what_, the dirty-blonde thought she was, time was of the essence. She couldn't have her innocent little girl sucked dry.

When Miss Maclay was in kindergarten, her bruises aroused suspicion at school. She was by no means an active child, and her wounds were generally very well hidden by the long-sleeved shirts her mother dressed her in. However, the close relationship she developed with her teacher, Ms. Appleson, during those long recess hours spent indoors, caused her to trust the woman enough to show her. Being a compassionate individual, the appalled Ms. Appleson called social services, and the same woman Tara had seen in the parking lot was called to investigate. She did not remember the specifics, being only five at the time, but Tara _did_ recall how the social worker's face changed into something scary, and how her gray hair started becoming brown, and that her wrinkles receded as the woman grabbed her little arm. Though her mother had shoved the woman away from her at the last possible second, Tara was sure it would not have taken much longer for the demonic thing to drain all of Tara's energy.

If she was after Willow, the poor girl might not have had much time left.

Moving quickly, Tara gathered the needed supplies and a map of the Sunnydale U campus. It was time for a locator spell.

Buffy was conducting her usual rounds, and was almost disappointed by the lack of vamp activity. She had only slain one of the undead that night, and if no more showed up, she might just have enjoyed her lowest kill-count on record. The Slayer smiled at the thought. She could go back to her room and catch a full six hours instead of her usual four, snuggle under her covers, maybe invite Riley over to join-

'_Bring!'_The college student's fantasy was brought to a halt by the sound of her phone going off. Grumbling, she picked the phone out of her black leather slay-jacket and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Oh, um, hello Buffy."

"Hi Giles." She responded, lacking the usual enthusiasm. Giles never called with good news, which meant she had some new magi-creep to deal with. Yay.

"I-I'm afraid we have a-a problem." Buffy groaned. Sometimes she hated being right.

"Details?"

"A low-level demon posing as a-a social worker." Hm. The blond actually hadn't heard of that one before.

"The last sighting was, um, somewhere a-around the high school." The teen smirked. Figures you'd get demons by a Hellmouth.

"We, ah, haven't been able to track it, but y-you should be aware," the watcher paused, "E-especially with, uh, Tara's, um, daughter a-around. I-I shouldn't like to see her get hurt."

"No problem Giles; I…" The distinct chime of shattering glass caught the Slayer's attention, "I'm going to have to call you back."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: As of now, I own naught.

Chapter 14

Cale screeched in a very unmanly manner as demon-Arlene grabbed him in her scaly hands, her yellowed talons cutting into his chest.

"Help! Please! Someone-anyone! Help me!" The petrified Willow was unable to answer the poor boy's cries, and instead watched dumbstruck as the beast that held him threw Cale into the glass wall across from them. The little girl winced as the college student crashed through the pane and landed limply on the ground, bruised and bleeding from the impact. The faux social worker that had inflicted Cale's injuries surveyed her handiwork, and, once sure the meddlesome young man would not rise, turned back to the red-headed child, offering her a grin of cracked and crooked teeth.

"I apologize for the interruption, Miss Maclay; now where were we?"

Tara groaned in frustration as her locator spell failed yet again. She had tried creating the traditional locating-light-ball, but it continued to sputter out, despite her mental description of her beloved, which the light-ball should have led her to. But the blonde witch was not weak of spirit, and thus she attempted the spell again. Perhaps she was thinking too much of 'old' Willow. Since 'old' Willow was now barely more than a toddler, Tara focused her mind on images of her girlfriend's child-self, adorable and stuttering her name. Again the light-ball appeared above the young woman's cupped hands, and to her utter joy, it started moving towards its red-haired target. But as Tara stood to follow the guiding brightness, it changed direction and flew right at her, stopped an inch before it hit her, spun around and started going in its original direction, and repeated the pattern. Tara sighed. How was she going to save Willow if she couldn't even find her?

Buffy did not have the same issues finding the little girl, for in following the sound of breaking glass, the Slayer was lead right to the location of the child-and the demon looming over her.

"Worry not, child," the creature once called Arlene cooed in a now-raspy voice, "you'll be far more useful to me than you would have been as your mother's punching-bag."

Willow glared into the demon's cold gray eyes-the only feature that went unchanged throughout the woman's transformation. _No one_ insulted her mother. She couldn't defend her only parent's honor against Cale, whose strong physique and real-world threat she was no match for, but against a creature of the supernatural? For some odd reason, the little red-head felt she had a fighting chance.

"Do not look at me in that tone, young lady," the aged villain chastised, noting the difference in the babe's previously timorous disposition, "I want to make this as painless as possible for you-but I can hurt you more than those beatings your precious Mommy gives you-"

"Step away from the kid." Buffy flipped her golden locks behind her shoulder, stake in hand.

The demon laughed at the tiny female specimen before her. She had just knocked a full-grown boy unconscious. The little blonde would be no match for her.

"I said, step _away_."

Tara had decided to abandon the locator spell. She had tried envisioning Willow in every form imaginable, and yet not one of them had given the light-ball reason to choose a direction and leave the room. It was time for plan B; when magic fails, use technology. Having no tracking device on her young charge, Tara opted to call Buffy's phone. It rang once, twice, three times-

"Hi! This is Buffy. Please leave a-" the thump of a vampire getting staked, "message! Thanks!" _Beep!_

It was useless to enlist the Slayer's help. She was probably out…slaying. Tara sighed, resting her forehead on her dorm-room window and gazing out into the night. She noticed the usual lack of tranquility; the frat boys partying outside, the lights in the library still on for the late-night crammers, the broken glass of the front building's lobby-wait. The young woman knew no one was _ever_ in the front building after hours. It was made up of administrative offices-too dull to interest rambunctious college students. So who was in there? And why was there broken glass? The blonde's eyes grew wide.

"Danielle!" the Slayer warned, "Get out of the way!"

As the demon left her youngest prey in favor of the Slayer, the abandoned girl couldn't help but get a little mad at her 'aunt'. She was rather looking forward to defending herself, and now the older blonde had taken her attacker's attention. But the little girl, being more mature than most her age, agreed a compromise might be a more efficient means of defeating the evil social worker than having her way alone. Thus, taking the opportunity afforded by the distraction of the tough college student's taunts and blows, little Willow tried to think of a way she could help. Closing her eyes, the child with the blonde highlights envisioned her mothers casting spells, as was usual in the Maclay household she remembered, and teaching her to do the same, concentrating on her inner power and chanting various incantations. Raising her eyes to the scene at hand, Willow knew what she had to do.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I wish I owned everything…but that dream has yet to be realized.

Chapter 15

Edging closer to the heated battle at hand, in complete contradiction to her aunt's warning, Willow focused her energies on mentally rehearsing the plan she had come up with. She would crawl towards the muscled college student and the frightening monster she fought, dodging their kicks and punches, until she got between them. At this point, she would bring her hands together, say the few mumbled words she remembered from her mothers' teachings, and unleash a reign of terror via evil-slicing magic energy! It couldn't fail.

"Take _that_!" Buffy delivered a powerful jab at the demon's chest, knocking it back a half-step.

'Arlene' snickered. "Weakling," The Slayer landed another blow at the creature's abdomen, "I hope you realize how futile your 'poking' is; I'm not at my usual youthful strength, and once I drain-"

"Danielle! I told you to get out of the way!"

The teal-eyed child was undeterred, and, taking a deep, calming breath, careful not to betray the terror felt within, she closed her eyes and began her pre-prepared ritual. Unfortunately, as with most things in life; her valiant effort to save herself and the blonde college student did not go according to plan. She uttered the few words she remembered, mispronouncing those that had the accursed letter she was incapable of properly verbalizing, and brought her hands together as if to seal the spell. Smiling triumphantly the small girl opened eyes to find that...nothing whatsoever had occurred.

The 'social worker' could have sat and ridiculed the child, who was slowly realizing the gravity of the situation, to the best of her toddler-esque brain's abilities, but she was not the type to gloat when an opportunity was at hand. Seeing the look of shock on her blonde opponent's face, and the delay in the doubtlessly eventual rush to grab the child and hide her from sight, 'Arlene' acted, taking a swipe at the unsuspecting Slayer's torso, knocking her to the floor. Another quick arm-blow to the young head and she was out cold.

"Alone at last, Miss Maclay. Or is another one of your 'friends' going to show up?"

Tears ran down the red-blonde child's face as she came to terms with her inevitable demise. Her magic was ineffective; she hadn't a hope.

Grinning madly, the scaly demon shrank back to human size, retracted her talons, and allowed skin to re-envelop her scales.

"Now don't struggle; this won't hurt a bit…" The now-woman dug her clear-polished nails into poor Willow's soft, fear-paled skin, and once they hit the blood in her arms, Arlene's fingers began to glow. The little girl could do nothing but stare through foggy eyes as the social worker's silver hair began to take on a dark gray hue, which slowly turned auburn. Through her tears, she could make out the old woman's wrinkles fading, the liver spots disappearing, the skin tightening, the drooping nose straighten; the demon-woman was de-aging. Willow, on the other hand, felt older, and older…

"Danielle! Honey?" Tara burst into the building, panting from her sprint across the grounds, "Are you in he…"

A burst of memory returned to the blonde witch; Arlene, her mother pushing the demon away, the mirror she looked in before her mother shielded her eyes-she had looked older! That was it! The demon drained children's youth! As a social worker, she encountered children that weren't taken care of properly, so no one bothered to investigate _her_ as the cause of the emaciated, aged corpses she left behind once she was through. No wonder Tara remembered-she might have been the only child ever to survive. Now, she was witness to her own faux-child falling victim to the same creature that had tried to drain her own youth years before. She would not-_could _not, let that happen.

"Don't you touch her!" Arlene barely looked up, so lost was she in the ecstasy of the youth she was gaining.

"It's too late, Tara," A beautiful brunette took the place of the aged government-employee, "I've drained the last of her."

The college student rushed to Willow's side, using her shirt to wipe the blood dripping from the puncture marks as Arlene's nails evacuated from them.

"You can't do anything, you know? I'm sure Mr. Burns and little miss 'hits a lot' over there," She motioned to Cale and Buffy's limp bodies, "Will recover nicely, but there's really no way you can help your little girl now." She grinned; her de-aged teeth glistening anew.

Tara watched helplessly as Willow's childlike frame evolved from the aged 7-year-old body she saw when she came in to a pre-teen, then a teen-she wasn't sure she could bear to watch her girlfriend go through her twenties, thirties-nineties all in one go. The tearing young woman covered the aging child with her sweatshirt, as the girl's clothes were not growing with her, and then averted her eyes and focused on the evil creature's milky smile, to be greeted with a very strange sight. Instead of remaining in her mouth, Arlene's teeth had begun to rapidly fall out, being replaced with a newer, _smaller_ set. The long brown hair began to shrink and soften into baby curls, and her body began to shrink to about the size of the child she had drained mere moments ago.

"What is this?" Arlene felt the change in her stature, the way her cheeks plumped and how her voice got substantially higher, "What did she goo!" The child-demon slapped a pudgy hand across her tiny mouth. She tried again, "Gaa-gaa…goo-goo?"

Tara observed, fascinated, as baby-Arlene tried to transform herself into the great beast that fought the Slayer, but her transformation yielded only an equally-as-defenseless baby demon. She was almost…_cute_. Not so much the adjective she was aiming for, as you can imagine.

Turning back to the girl whose hands she clasped, the blonde undergraduate was astounded to find that, as Willow approached her true age, her aging slowed and her features were returning to normal; her eyes more green, her hair a pure red; and her physical mannerisms as she held a weak hand to her head were hers alone. The demon's age-sucking powers had counteracted whatever curse Willow had cast to turn herself into a little girl, turning the demon little herself!

"Wha-what happened to me?"

"Willow!" Tara kissed her full-sized lover's plush lips. The red-headed woman responded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, despite the fact that her entire body ached from such rapid growth, which, luckily, had stopped. She looked around, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings and her fallen friend.

"Is Buffy-"

"She'll be fine." Tara cut Willow off, covering her mouth with another smooch. The Sunnydale native gently pushed her girlfriend away.

"What happened?"

The blonde one _could_ have told her the entire story. She _could_ have just fallen asleep from all the stresses of dealing with a 4ish-year-old, knowing it was finally over. She _could_ have completely ignored her and satisfied some very pressing lust-issues that had been plaguing her since her girlfriend's 'disappearance'. But instead, the older witch's initial anger at the real-sized Willow, who doubtlessly caused her own shrinkage and by default the entire mess before them, returned to her full-throttle.

"What, in goddess's name, were you casting on yourself to turn yourself into a four-year-old?"

"Huh?" The Slayer awoke, her golden-haired head pounding as she groggily got up from the ground, "Where's Danielle?" She asked, searching in vain for the child.

"She's right here." Tara uttered, through slightly gritted teeth.

Buffy looked at Willow, who waved back at her, "So…Willow's back from…" She saw the baby demon. She noticed the unconscious classmate. She pointed to the first, "Is that our creep?"

Tara nodded.

"Right. I'll just…take care of them…" The Slayer picked up the baby in one arm, and Cale's leg in the other, dragging them both outside.

"I asked; what spell you were trying to cast?" Tara returned to the topic at hand in a scolding tone.

"Spell…?" Suddenly the memories of the past few days flooded back to her. Tara's hair, her blood, Miss Kitty Fantastico. It all came back, "I was casting a spell…"

"Go on."

Willow scowled at her partner's harsh tone, "…to make a cat-buddy to hang out with Miss Kitty Fantastico."

Tara didn't quite understand, "I don't get-" The red-head cut her off.

"I know Miss Kitty doesn't socialize too well," This was true; every time she'd met other cat's she'd immediately hissed and turned to the offensive, "but she seems to like us, so I thought I'd make a second kitty that was a mix of the two of us."

"That explains the hair and the blood I saw and why you looked like both of us…but the memories? You had memories from my past, and your past, and our past, which didn't happen!" Tara struggled to understand.

"That's because I was going to add some manifested ones so Miss Kitty would think the new kitty had always been there; that they had always known each other."

The blonde was not 100% on how any of this related to the situation they had been put in, "By which you mean what, exactly?"

Willow sighed. It was so simple, "We had a fight while I was doing the spell, and you said 'little gal' and I said 'baby' and I had begun saying the incantation, so..."

"I messed it up with the added words." Her girlfriend shook her head.

"Not just you-_we_." Tara smiled.

"I-I'm sorry for calling you a little girl. That was uncalled for." She had to admit; dealing with a true child version of her girlfriend had opened her eyes to how mature the adult version of her beloved was. "But what _is_ called for; is a major room clean-up."

Willow furrowed her brow, puzzled.

"I came back to my room last night to see all of my sheets ripped by your 'magic-mares'." Tara chastised.

"Magi-what?"

"When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares where I'd 'use' magic in my dreams, but it manifested in the real world while I slept. I went through so many mattresses-my father was infuriated." The blonde laughed at the memory, "And _your_ room, for that matter, isn't much cleaner. I expect you to clean up-" Her fully-restored girlfriend silenced her with a kiss.

"Yes, Tawa deawest." Willow slapped a hand over her mouth as Tara chuckled, kissing her back.

"I think you mean '_Tara dearest_.'"


End file.
